


Hot Flush

by threewalls



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Community: kink_bingo, Community: trope_bingo, M/M, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin is the very worst in EXO at poker and Lu Han is the best, but strip poker evens the odds. Jongin hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Flush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notaverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaverse/gifts).



> For Mec, because. <3 
> 
> (And also: cottoncandy bingo: "games", kink bingo: "exposure/exhibitionism", and trope bingo: "poker/strip poker" - which finally gives me a trope bingo bingo!!!)

Jongin can feel the brocade on the hotel room chair impressing on his thighs and the light swirl of air conditioning along the back of his bare shoulder blades and under his arms.

He is too young to gamble in the casinos here. Just as well, given how desperately awful that they discovered he was at poker when Lu Han started dealing a game out of spare props yesterday for those waiting for their turn. Even Chanyeol's unpredictable, out of control face made him better at poker than Jongin, who is apparently easier to read than the photo book they're here in the state of Nevada to shoot.

Jongin stayed behind in the hotel when Kris and Junmyeon took the others out to trawl the strip, for shopping and roller coasters, because Jongin's not the only one too young for Las Vegas' main draw. He stayed behind because he is so bad at poker that Lu Han took pity and offered to give him private lessons. There's a lot that Jongin wants Lu Han to teach him (though, to be completely honest, poker is not high on the list).

Lu Han had a pack of cards in his bag, but no chips, not now that they're off the set, but they could play for points. This is just for practice, after all, he'd said. And Jongin, looking out the window, out over the afternoon sunshine on the potted palm trees and so many girls in bikinis running around the hotel pool, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts, had thrown out the suggestion -- hey, what about clothes?

Stripping whenever he loses a hand makes Jongin feel like he almost knows what he's doing, flexing and shimmying out of his clothes without getting all the way up off his chair was a sort of game where Jongin might win. But the game they're playing is strip _poker_ , not just stripping, and whenever Jongin drops an item of clothing onto the table between them, and looks across onto Lu Han's poker face, his advantage evaporates faster than sweat in the Las Vegas heat. 

Because Jongin has felt his skin itching with this kind of vulnerability in a three piece suit, shiny shoes and all buttoned up, all because of the soft cadence of Lu Han-hyung breathing words in his ear that become the only thing making sense to Jongin's red-carpet-addled brain. Or when Jongin speaks Mandarin with hundreds of cameras and phones and fans watching him, hoping, hoping, hoping that his tones won't be flat, and the host's exuberant praise can't settle Jongin's nerves as much as the dimples in his teacher's cheeks. 

"You're supposed to be checking for my tells," Lu Han says. "That means you have to look at me, Jongin-ah, not the table."

"Yes, hyung," Jongin says, even though this only means his eyes skitter up and then away, away from Lu Han's throat, away from his forearms resting on the table-top an arm's span distant. Away from Jongin's face broadcasting loud and clear that he's thinking about the strength in Lu Han's legs that Jongin can't even see with the table solid and opaque between them (THANK GOD) just because he can't shut out his awareness of the caress of Lu Han's toes against his naked calves. 

Jongin suspects that Lu Han is going easy on him, because that's the only explanation for how many items of Lu Han's clothing have joined Jongin's on the bed behind him.

Look at Lu Han-hyung is stupid advice to win at poker, because Jongin looks at Lu Han all the time, glances out of the corner of his eye, twists of his neck when something's funny, because he loves the way laughter takes over Lu Han's face. But for Jongin, Lu Han's body doesn't give away anything about what Lu Han thinks. It never has. 

Jongin can't tell what Lu Han thinks by how he stands beside him or the way he says Jongin's name. Jongin only knows what Jongin feels, that however jittery thinking about Lu Han can make him feel, actually hanging out with him somehow also makes Jongin feel at peace. 

He has five cards held spread in his sweaty palm. Two are diamonds, but only a five and a seven. He's got the three of hearts, an eight of spades and a six of clubs. He knows enough now to know that he can swap some of them. He could drag this out to another round, spend more time examining Lu Han's face for no clues about what he thinks about his own cards, but Jongin is more interested in what the blank expression on Lu Han's face doesn't give away about what he thinks of Jongin's nipples. He lost his tank undershirt two hands back. 

That's why Jongin doesn't ask for more cards, just lays his cards flat on the table, face up, tuning out Lu Han's explanation of why his queen-high-flush beat Jongin's spread of 5-card crap. He arches his back instead, one arm supporting his weight while his thumb hooks into the back of his waistband, skimming his crack as Jongin yanks his briefs down off his ass. He bites his lip as the elastic scrapes down over his erection.

Jongin's briefs are blue, bright against the dark grey laminate of the tabletop, with a blatant wet patch just under the waistband where the head of his dick just was. His thighs tense to stand-- just as Lu Han grabs Jongin's hand up from the table.

"Calling is a risky strategy. You have to show all your cards," Lu Han says. "But that also means the other players have to show you theirs."

Jongin can hear Lu Han's voice in his mind, telling him to look, and so he looks and doesn't stop looking even though his face feels like sunburn. Lu Han's face is still the mask Jongin knows so well, dynamic, emotive and unreadable, but his heart is racing beneath Jongin's palm as fast as Jongin's own.

Jongin skims his thumb across Lu Han's bare breastbone, his wrist held secure in Lu Han's grasp. "Is this a tell?" he asks.

"No," Lu Han shakes his head, laughing. "But that I lost track of what you were still wearing: that was. Well-played. Maybe it's time I teach you some advanced techniques."

"Advanced techniques?" Jongin echoes because words are even harder than normal when Lu Han is using Jongin's hand to pull him forward over the table.

Lu Han smiles against Jongin's lips. "Where we play for something other than clothes."

**Author's Note:**

> _Jongin's hand of cards is known as a "little cat". Luhan's queen high flush (all hearts, for the curious) only just beats Jongin's hand._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> You can also comment at my [DW](http://threewalls.dreamwidth.org/237548.html) or my [LJ](http://threewalls.livejournal.com/365414.html).


End file.
